


Sleepless Nights

by The_Calm_Before_The_Storm



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Forbidden Love, Gangs, Humans, Johnlock - Freeform, Rivalry, Sherlock AU, Vampires, Werewolves, mystrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Calm_Before_The_Storm/pseuds/The_Calm_Before_The_Storm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Vampire/Werewolves AU<br/>---------------<br/>Mycroft Holmes is the son of the leader of the Unseen, a small civilisation of Vampires living in London. He stands to inherit the throne upon which his father sits until one night, after Mycroft celebrates his anniversary with his spouse, he has a surprise meeting with an old enemy who breaks the news that he will soon have a sibling who will become the new heir to the throne.<br/>---------------<br/>(I'm not great at summaries but this work will follow several points of view so if you're looking for Johnlock then please bare with, the main plot follows John and Sherlock. Updates may be irregular so I'm sorry in advance but I hope you enjoy it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless Nights

The London smog hung heavily in the air, its weight emphasised by the icy winter atmosphere which cloaked the city. A real pea soup-er. The gas lamps which lined the cobble streets formed a glowing cloud about them, becoming the only guidance in the blindness of the night.

Mycroft Holmes stepped out of the Royal Opera House and into the brisk air of the night, the heels of his dress shoes clopping against the stones of the road and the tails of his coat gliding behind him. He squinted his eyes, looking ahead of himself for a moment before bowing his head to replace his top hat. The pale man hung his silver handled cane over his forearm before reaching into his pocket to retrieve his pipe.

Mycroft brought the ebony pipe to his dry lips and held it between them as he searched for his matchbox. He frantically patted all of the pockets on his 3 piece suit as the other attendees of the opera filed out around him, magnificently dressed aristocrats wandering blindly into the Capitol with the aim to return to their boasting city estates.

The copper haired man frowned as he continued to grope himself, cursing around his pipe when he heard the scratch of a match lighting by his side. Slender hands wrapped in black silk gloves brought the match to the end of the pipe and Mycroft inhaled deeply, lighting the pipe with a warm glow and the mysterious hands shook the match out before dropping it to the cobbles.

Holmes exhaled, blowing smoke into the already cloudy air, “Thank you, my Dear” he spoke warmly, directing his gaze to the ever beautiful Irene who stood by him.

“My pleasure, darling” she replied, holding up a scarf to her companion. Irene, like Mycroft, was dressed in black from head to toe. Her black hair was wrapped under a small, black, feathered hat which was secured in place with a black rose hair pin. Her satin dress clung to her slender figure from her bust to her thighs and then glided to the floor. She wore a fur shoal to cover her arms in the winter night, and it was, of course, black. The only hint of colour against her dark attrite and her porcelain skin was the blood red paint on her slender lips.

Mycroft took another puff from his piped as he bowed, allowing Irene to drape the scarf around his neck. “Really now, Mycroft…” she began and Mycroft stood tall again “You’ll catch your death if you don’t watch yourself” She pulled the scarf tight around the man’s neck and tied it securely, tucking the loose tails into his waist coat. Stepping on her tip toes, she placed a kiss lightly to the pale man’s lips before returning to ground level.

“Wherever would I be without you?” He smiled, plucking his cane from his arm to rest his weight upon it as he offered the same arm to his companion. She took it gracefully and they began into the quiet of the night with steady caution.  
Mycroft strode with confidence through the streets as though his vision was not at all impaired, head held high in a pompous façade of prestige. “Darling…” he began, waiting a moment for his companion’s attention. She hummed wistfully in response and he continued, “We’ve seen Don Giovanni so many times my dear, what say next anniversary we attend Le Nozze di Figaro?”

Irene neglected to respond, verbally or physically as they continued. Moments passed before Mycroft looked to her and dared a push “Ire-” “No.” She interrupted. Silence ensued as Mycroft was taken aback. He stopped mid stride and watched as Irene attempted to continue. He held onto her arm and she looked down to where his hand gripped before looking up at him silently.

Mycroft blinked in disbelief at the disrespect emanating through Irene’s manor “Excuse me?” He questioned, giving her a chance to reconsider her answer. With barely a change from her black expression, she repeated “No”. Mycroft frowned and let go of her arm “Where is this disrespect coming from?” Irene turned to fully face him, knitting her brows into a sharper frown than that of Mycroft’s “I mean no disrespect, Darling. I just don’t wish to see another Opera on our anniversary.”

Mycroft’s expression softened and he reached out his hands, open palms facing to the sky. Irene looked at them for a second before laying her hands in his and they closed around them. She looked back up, barely able to see her lovers face through the fog. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them softly before lowering them again. “Things change over time my dear – maybe we should change with them.” He uttered softly, taking a step to breach the gap between them.

Mycroft’s words hit Irene like a brick and she pushed him away, her emotions exploding from her through screams “I’M SICK OF CHANGE! WE ALWAYS CHANGE AND KEEP MOVING AND YOU NEVER HEAR ME COMPLAIN! THIS IS THE ONE THING I OBJECT TO CHANGING MR.HOLMES AND IT’S THE ONLY THING YOU’VE EVER WANTED TO CHANGE!”

Mycroft erupted back at her “IRENE DON’T BE ABSURD! I DON’T WANT TO CHANGE A LOT OF THINGS BUT WE HAVE TO! WE CAN’T GO OUR WHOLE LIVES WITHOUT CHANGING ANY-”

“YOU PROPOSED TO ME AT DON GIOVANNI! THAT’S SPECIAL TO US! OR HAD YOU FORGOTTEN!?” Tears streamed from Irene’s eyes and dripped onto her gown and her breathing grew ragged with every word she shouted.

Mycroft was silent for a moment, frozen by how upset he had made his wife. “Sweetheart, I’m never going to forget that-” he approached her slowly, bringing his hand to her cheek and wiping her tears away with his thumb. “Don Giovanni will always be special to me. I just thought that a change might be nice – after all, it has been-”

“A hundred and four years” a voice sounded from off in the smog, accent of a lower class and exceedingly common.

Mycroft all but snarled a reply towards the source of the voice, “I thought I could smell wet dog.” With that, Mycroft blew out into the open street long and hard – the fog that had blinded them lifted from the street where they stood and the mysterious character was revealed.

Stood not fifteen feet behind where Irene stood was a man. He was seemingly middle age, a flat cap perched over his salt and pepper hair. He wore typical work clothing – shirt, waistcoat, trousers jacket and shoes. All of his clothes were ill fitting and worn. His shoes were no exception.

“Gregory.” Mycroft greeted flatly, “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. It’s only been 15 years – practically yesterday.” 

The mysterious man gritted his teeth in frustration “yeah, well I ain’t too happy ‘bout it either, alright. And it’s, Greg.” He growled in response.

“Of course it is. In any matter, to what do I owe this displeasure? It’s too close to the full moon for you to be out like this Gregory. Trying for your health I’m sure – and of course you’re alone – one can imagine that the rest of the pack is smarter than their leader”

Irene laughed obnoxiously, attempting to hide her obvious anger in order to support her husband as she rejoined his side, swinging on his arm as she did so - tears still clinging to her lashes.

“LISTEN HERE YOU VAMPIRE SCUM!”

With a gust of wind, Irene was standing alone on the cobbles and Mycroft was suddenly looking down at Greg who stood inches before him. He bowed his head to Gregory’s ear and whispered -

“I’m listening”

Greg shuddered as Mycroft brought his head back, standing face to face with the common man and a smug grim plastered to his alabaster face.

Greg growled and spoke through gritted teeth “I’m only ‘ere to see our deal ain’t broke”

“And why would it be?” Mycroft quipped back.

“Oh...you don’t know”? now it was Greg’s turn to be smug.

“Your father got one of 'is whores pregnant. Looks like there’s a new heir to the Unseen’s throne.”

Greg laughed as he fell to all fours on the cobbled street. When Mycroft looked down, a wolf with grey speckled fur lay on the ground – when it rose to it’s paws, it stood over five feet tall, breathing hot air into Mycroft’s face. With a twinkle of humor in his eye, Greg turned on his tail and bolted into the fog as it began to close in on the street again.

Mycroft spun slowly to face his wife who stood with her hands clasped to her mouth in shock. Holmes remained silent as the fog continued to engulf him and Irene disappeared from view.

He was going to be a brother - but never be a king.


End file.
